


Freak Out

by Tarlan



Category: Eureka
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:46:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has trouble producing a sample - until he thinks of Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freak Out

**Author's Note:**

> Tag to 2.11 Maneater  
> DAY 1: MMoM 2013

This was so unfair. How was he supposed to fill this with... you know what, when he wasn't exactly feeling in the mood? The clinical lines of Global Dynamic's men's washroom was not giving him any sexy thoughts either, nor was the thought of all those women affected by his glands, or pheromones, or whatever it was that was making them all go nuts over him.

He shoved open the door to the closest cubical and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, pressing the small sample container against his forehead as if he could conjure up a sperm sample from sheer will power alone.

Only this morning he'd been unable to keep a straight face while play-acting in Doctor Young's Sexual Harassment seminar. It had all seemed so ludicrous then, especially with Jo trying - and failing - to act like the innocent victim. At least she'd broken into giggles first, and even Stark had found it highly amusing.

It wasn't so funny now, especially as he was the one being harassed.

Realizing that sitting here moping wasn't going to get the job done, he placed the container on a tiny shelf and stood up, unfastening his pants and shoving his boxers aside. He pulled his flaccid cock out and sighed.

"Think sexy thoughts," he murmured, and tried to conjure up a few well used and normally successful fantasies, but his body was having none of it. He flashed to a memory of Allison's beautiful mocha skin contrasting against pink lingerie and felt only the tiniest twitch of interest. Nothing more.

"Damn it." 

That was his best fantasy of late, and if even that one wasn't going to get him up and running then he was in big trouble. He could just imagine it now. Stark raising a sardonic eyebrow and making some snide comment about penile dysfunction. He'd probably offer up some chemical solution, or maybe he'd whip out his own cock and start playing, just to rub it in Jack's face that he didn't have any problems in that area.

_Rub it in his face._

Jack tensed as a tingle of pleasure shot through him at the thought of Stark standing over him, hand playing the length of a cock that would be as well proportioned as the rest of his long, lean frame. Jack had watched those elegant fingers dancing over a keyboard, and he recalled the fine motor control as Stark typed onto a tiny datapad. Now he imagined those same fingers teasing and coaxing the length of Stark's cock, rubbing over the sensitive head and smearing a glistening droplet of precum. Jack felt another pulse of pleasure and looked down, almost shocked to realize he had wrapped his hand around his now half-hard cock.

"Oh, this is so wrong," he berated himself, but he needed to provide this sample, and if thinking of Stark getting off got him there too, then he'd deal with the freak out later.

The one thing Jack had noticed about the washroom at Global was that each cubicle came fully equipped, and he squirted a little hand lotion into his palm. It scented a little strong for his personal taste but he knew it would have to do. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his fingers back around his cock and let his mind pick up from where it had left off. 

Stark. 

Nathan Stark. 

In one of his expensive Armani suits that displayed his tall, muscular physique to perfection.

In Jack's fantasy, Stark was standing right in front of him, with legs splayed apart, jacket open, belt undone and the zipper down. He was naked under those suit pants, cock standing proud through the gap in his suit pants. He held his cock in one large, strong hand, stroking it languidly as those penetrating blue-green eyes studied Jack intently.

Fully hard now, Jack picked up the container and removed the lid, holding it in readiness as he sank back into his fantasy. He let his hand move with the same speed as his imaginary Stark, slowly building the pace and holding Stark's eyes as they raced towards completion; competitive even in this.

_That all you got, Carter._

Jack heard the taunt and worked himself harder, imagining a bead of sweat rolling down Stark's throat as his threw his head back, and gasping in unison with his fantasy partner as his climax rolled over him.

It took him a few attempts to put the lid back on the container, grateful that he'd retained enough control to at least aim right. Jack gave himself a few more minutes before zipping up and heading out to the wash basins. He splashed cold water over his face, hoping no one would mention the high flush in his cheeks. It was bad enough that at least a dozen people knew what he was doing in here, including Stark and Fargo. And if Fargo said anything about it on that damn bullhorn, then Jack was going to shove it right up his ass.

Stepping out of the washroom, Jack flushed in embarrassment as the guards headed back towards him. Keeping the now-filled container hidden in the palm of his hand, he let them lead him back towards medical.

Two days later, Jack stepped into Global, silently congratulating himself for successfully avoiding a major freak out. Casually, he looked up at the director's office as he crossed the main floor below, only to spot Stark in his gray Armani suit, legs splayed, and eyes intently focusing on the activity below as he surveyed his domain.

As those eyes met Jack's, the fantasy played back, and Jack was instantly hard.

"Oh crap!"

END


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